Christmas Magic
by patnkatz
Summary: This story is within "The Bauble", but later in the story. Rather than put it into next July, I'll give it to you this Christmas. It all starts with a proper Christmas tree, an organ, and a small homeless child. Merry Christmas to all!
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note__: I enter into a new chapter that is rightly placed within "The Bauble," but wanted to share it with you before that time in the story. So this small segment is a part of that whole. As always, we are all grateful to Leiji-San for creating such delightful, complex characters, and the universe they inhabit. You will note a character or two are of my own invention, one is Legend, and all have a place in the whole tale. The End becomes the Beginning in the donut shaped Universe. _

_Merry Christmas to everyone, may Peace and Joy be yours this season, and the whole year through. _

_OOOOOO_

Christmas Magic - Chapter 1

_"Christmas is built upon a beautiful and intentional paradox;_

_that the birth of the homeless should be celebrated in every home." G.K. Chesterton_

He tugged at the huge Frasier fir, hoping that he'd sawn enough of the trunk to get it to fall. "Not yet," he muttered under his breath, as the condensation from his spoken words trailed away in white smoke, off into the bitterly cold night. They _would_ want a tree, a properly smelling evergreen, and old fashioned tree, he thought to himself. He had trudged almost all night through the ancient forest near Heiligenstadt looking for just the right one.

His feet were encased in warm boots, and so his feet were warm, he had on an arctic rated, insulated dark green coat, that came below his knees and protected his body, but his cheeks and nose were like ice. He held his mitted hands up to his face and breathed back in some of the warm air that escaped his lungs, warming his nose and cheeks in the process. He should have worn the ski mask, but hadn't wanted it; he had craved being able to directly breathe in the fresh, cold air of Earth's atmosphere. No matter where he went, nothing read like "home" than here, where he had been born. The consequences of that wish were a cold face, and an icy nose.

He was wearing a red and green patterned knitted hat, mixed with blue and white characters at the edge of the brow band. It came with a matching scarf and it was colorful in daylight. Frankly, he was grateful for the dark. The hat and scarf had been a gift, and he hadn't liked its colorful design, but it kept his head and ears warm, and had been a gift from a now departed and deceased friend. The set had been a joke gift, but he wore it now and again, to honor the one who had gifted it to him.

This was the one, he thought. The tree was a good 20 feet high, full of good length branches, gracefully arranged around it in a very even bracts, with a bonus of only one small, holey area that he could see. It smelled wonderful, and he could imagine it decorated with all of the collected ornaments they had gathered through the years.

He knelt down, got under its skirted lowest branches, and sawed a bit more. He heard a sharp crack in the wintry night, and scurried out from under the tree, hoping he had guessed correctly about which way the tree would fall. It started to go, slowly and gracefully over to the one side. It gained speed as it fell toward the earth, and finally whooshed down into the powdery white, moonlit snow. As it fell, the snow that had been on its branches fell loose from the tree, sending powder in all directions.

A part of him was sad that the tree would no longer grow, but it would warm the hearts of people who had need of its beauty. He promised himself that he would return in the spring, at Easter, to plant a new one; it was the responsible thing to do. His parents had taught him that, years before. He smiled at the memory. Nights like this, trudging through this same woodland, searching for just the right tree with his parents. What idyllic times those were!

Franz attached the base of the tree trunk to the back of his flying platform, got on, and slowly revved up the hovercraft to begin to move the tree. It didn't want to move at first, so he had to increase power. Once he got it moving, the tree became a sled as he threaded his way through the forest and back to the ship.

OOOOOO

Aboard the Arcadia, the crew mostly slept while the AI kept watch. It was still in the puckish phase of development, and was still playing pranks on the crew, now and again. It didn't like it when its Pattern left the security of its walls. It fretted a bit. It considered the idea of going after the Pattern, but discarded the idea, as it had tracked him a part of the way, and noted the odd, rambling trail that he had left. The Pattern occasionally walked like that while inebriated, but the ship hadn't noted a high enough alcohol level. So, not noting any harmful things that might happen to the Pattern, at least in the current view, it could do some reflecting of its own. And maybe set up a prank or two. One of the nice things about Dark Matter was the ability to make things that you wanted. It had been "reading," or should one say, exploring its own mind, about this thing called Christmas. It might want to have some fun with that. So, it mentally curled in on itself, and studied its own memories.

OOOOOO

Harlock slowly worked his way through the forest to the boundary of its confines. The trees began to thin out, and the dark star-strewn sky became more prominent, the forest was densely populated with beautiful firs, and other trees, who were in dormancy for the winter. While those trees bore no leaves, their trunks and bare branches lent an architectural beauty all their own, in the stark relief of the bright, moonlit night.

It was amazing to see how well the world had healed. He shook his head, wondering at the recuperative powers of the mighty forest. And the absolute power that he had once held in his hands, for the good, or ill, of the universe. It hadn't been all that long ago that he had wished for it to be healed, as he held the orb that the Arcadian Queen had given to him. Zone had chosen the destruction of the Illumidas, while Harlock had wished for the healing of his home world.

Both desires had been granted, and interestingly, while Harlock had "read" as a destroyer to the Queen's telepathic probe, and Zone had not, after rescuing the Earth Zone had turned his new destructive powers against Harlock. Zone's choice regarding Harlock had told the Queen which was the more worthy man, and the Arcadian Queen had intervened, rescued Harlock, and then dealt harshly with Zone. Harlock had been given an orb and a choice, and his choice was restoration of the Earth. If he had been given the first orb, he too, would have called for the destruction of the Illumidas. It was providential that he had gone second. Without his wish, the Earth would still be depleted, and its people decimated.

She had granted Harlock a further wish, much later through her daughter, Ar'Shenda, but he didn't know how to use that orb, not yet. It glowed oddly at times, showed up in odd places - when he could have sworn that it was safely in his desk drawer - and he really wondered what it was doing. Or why he had custody of it. He shrugged mentally. The orb would make its purpose known at some point, and given his past history with the Arcadians, he did not think that the purpose was malignant. He was a patient man and would await the revelation. He wondered if it would perch on the top of the tree, and smiled at the idea.

The glimmer of pre-dawn was beginning to show on the horizon, and he pushed his platform flyer to go a little faster. He had wanted to be gone again when daylight came. The Arcadia could hide easily in the dark of the night with the cloaking it had, but in broad daylight, the ship was a little too obvious. And the eyes of others were not what he had in mind. He was weary, and wanted to rest, both physically and mentally. While the people of this area were not angry with him, nor wished him harm, and would likely aid him did he need it, he did not want for them to suffer on his account. And Earth Council would see to their punishment, if they discovered any assistance to him.

As he wound his way through the trees on the trail back to the Arcadia, he noticed a small church through the thinning trees to his left. It was big enough to have an organ, but small enough that no one would be living there. He was torn, and stopped the platform transport, to decide what to do. On a whim, and at the urging of an internal voice that told him to go, he veered over to the church. If he hurried, he could still make it.

OOOOOO

The child sat on the stone floor, in the front of the small church. If anyone had happened upon him, they would have noticed that he was crying softly. He was eight years and some months old, and had on a battered coat four times bigger than what he needed. His shoes were scuffed and worn on the soles, nor did his clothing match at all; it was layered for warmth against the cold.

He had let himself into the church by jiggling the door handle, hoping against hope that by doing so, that it would open for him. Surprisingly enough, it had. He had hurried into the old church. While there was no running heat in the church at this day, or hour, it did have a roof, and its stout stone walls shielded him from the cold winds. He looked up at the moonlit altar, seeing through teary eyes to One who had suffered also. He had been told that you could pray to Him, but the boy didn't know how. Yet one more mark against him, he thought miserably. Hot tears ran down his cold and rather dirty face, tracing their trails as they disappeared into his jumbled clothing.

He didn't know what to do. His stepfather had thrust him out into the night, hours earlier, and had told him not to return. He didn't understand why he had been told to go, as he had done nothing wrong, nor why his mother had not spoken up for him. She had merely looked away, after she had loaded as many clothes as she could onto his slender frame. They were very poor, but at least there had been heat, and a bed to go to. Now, he was hungry, cold, and homeless.

He looked at the front of the altar, where the Nativity had been prominently displayed. Stories that he had heard, said that the family portrayed there had been without a place to stay, too. Yet when he looked at them, they didn't look as miserable as he felt, and being in a stable was certainly less nice than even the inside of a cold church; he wondered about that peace they seemed to have. The serene Madonna, protective Joseph, awestruck shepherds, and regal wise men bearing rich gifts; all seemed to see something wonderful in the baby in the manger.

He wished for people who would think of him like that. He really wanted a family who would be protective of him, love him, and honor him. What would it be like? He wondered if that was even possible. He locked his eyes in mute pleading with the baby in the manger. "Help me," he whispered.

OOOOOO

Harlock entered the church from the back, placing his flying platform out of sight, and away from the road leading to the church. The door had been open when he tested the knob. He wondered at the trust that this showed, and smiled. The people of Heiligenstadt were always hospitable. The kind priest of this small church obviously believed in the open door policy; for which Franz was very grateful. He looked at where the bell tower was, knowing that the organ pipes were likely in a loft adjacent to it. He figured that the church's organ had to be in that general area. He saw a small, steep staircase off to his left. Confidently, he climbed the stairs to the loft above. He opened the small door, and squeezed his large frame through it. Apparently, he thought ruefully, when this church was built, the organist had been of smaller stature.

He saw the beautifully carved wood case of the organ. It had been lovingly cared for over the years; the wood glowed with a polished patina, and was worn with being handled. He hoped that the care shown to the exterior of the organ, also translated into care for the bellows within it. He truly hoped that the bellows were in decent shape, otherwise this detour would have been for naught.

Franz raised the rolled top back to reveal the organ stops and keyboards. He flicked the switch for the lights above the organ, and swore under his breath when nothing happened. He suddenly realized where he was, and muttered, "sorry," under his breath, looking upwards with unaccustomed embarrassment. He would need to find the power switch. Nothing would happen without that. Harlock backed out of the loft, and went downstairs to the vestry, hoping to find the power switch there.

OOOOOO

The boy heard the movement in the loft area, and sucked in his breath. If he was discovered, he would be thrown back out into the night. He was still so cold, that he didn't think he would be able to live if that were to happen. He frantically looked around for a place to hide. The church pews would do, but if anyone was really looking, he would be found.

Where, where to hide? He spotted the arras behind the altar. It was sticking out a little ways. He scooted over to look at it, as he heard the sound of feet on stairs coming down. There wasn't a lot of room, but if he squeezed in behind the altar, and behind the arras, he could hide there. The boy scrambled behind the altar, and sat on the floor. As he caught his breath, he noticed that the altar back was hollow, and made a nice big box to hide in. He carefully crawled in to the empty space. Safe at last! He breathed a sigh of relief.

OOOOOO

Harlock found the power box in the vestry area, behind a cabinet filled with aging vestments. He noted that some were rather threadbare, but well taken care of. Things had improved in the outer world, but the margins were still quite slim for the people here. That made him sad, and he reflected on the wonderful childhood he had had, with a loving family, and many friends among the town's children. He wondered if any of his old friends had survived the war, and what life was like for them now. He wistfully wondered if they spared any thought for him, or good memories from their time together.

He pressed the power button and the little church came to life, light and heat running through its ancient mechanical veins. Franz smiled in delight. The church might be old, but it had been lovingly cared for, and given what was possible. He left the vestry, and on his return trip to the loft, noted the sanctuary to the side, through the other door. He hesitated, and then went into the church proper.

Well, at least Heaven hadn't struck him dead upon entering the church, he thought to himself ruefully. Nor had there been any thunder or lightening. Not that he had expected any. Really, he was being silly.

He looked out at the quiet interior, the muted stained glass window in the back, which was probably glorious in daylight, up to the chancel area, and the altar beyond. He stepped up to the communion rails, to look at the altar, and above, to the crucifix of the Suffering Christ, suspended against a richly brocaded, but faded arras, and the Eternal Flame hanging to the right above the altar, and then down upon the beautifully carved, and expertly painted, wooden Nativity set before it on the floor. The soft glow of the interior lights as they warmed up, rested upon the peaceful scene.

Out of respect, he genuflected and crossed himself as he had done when younger, when his life had been simpler, and he had been more innocent. He wished for some of that peace, but knew he was unlikely to find it. But he could pretend, if only for a part of an hour, that that peace existed.

He turned and went to the steps to go up into the loft. This time, when he pressed the power button on the organ, it hummed to life. Franz grinned. He swung himself onto the bench, shook off his coat and snowy boots, and put them aside, he placed his stocking feet on the pedals below the bench, and his hands on the triple keyboard above. He moved some of the stops on the organ, breathed in, and began to tap on the yellowed ivory keys. He did some warm up first, to gauge the responsiveness of the organ, and then with a delighted smile, sprang into playing beloved Christmas hymns from his memory. As he played, he relaxed, and the beauty of the music leapt from his beleaguered mind, down to his talented hands, and out into the quiet night.

The music calmed not just a war-torn warrior, but also a small, frightened boy, hiding behind the altar. The boy was soon asleep, worn out from his ordeal that day, lulled by the beautiful music. The man allowed himself to give in to the beauty also, and he lost all track of time.

OOOOOO


	2. Chapter 2

Christmas Magic - Chapter 2

_"Everyone wants to feel loved, but when all you feel is alone, it's tough to accomplish anything else." Glenn Beck _

The elderly priest struggled with both the snow, which was hard for his aged legs to push aside, and the biting wind, that threatened to remove both his hat, and what was left of his wispy white hair, as he went up the path to the old church that he served. The effort was hard, but he wanted to sing in the morning this day. His body was aged, but his spirit was still strong, unbowed by all that had occurred in the past several years. So, he moved slowly, but he still got there, albeit in more time than what he would have been happy with in younger days. He didn't know why he had been called by the Spirit from his warm slumber, but obediently, he went.

Oddly, when he got to the church, he noted a strange looking flying platform, with a monstrously large fir tree tied to the back of it, behind the church. It wasn't visible from the road, which was a feat in itself. The tree was huge. He studied it a moment, and then realized that the snow had partially covered the tree, which meant that it had been here at least a part of the night. Which also meant that the driver of the vehicle was likely inside of the church. Were he less than what he was, he would have been frightened of this strange occurrence. As it was, he merely took note, and entered the back door of the church, vaguely taking note of deep vibrations beneath his feet.

As he entered the church, he heard the organ playing, and he stopped to listen, spellbound for the moment. The organ was playing! And the music was not played by a timid, unlearned person. No, this person, whoever they might be, was an excellent organist. There were tones of horn, and deep bass, timbres of viols, and layers, upon layers, of beauty arising in the air, and rattling the stones beneath his feet.

A wide smile spread across the priest's wrinkled face. God had sent him an organist, just in time for Christmas Eve! He had prayed for one, as the people needed comfort just now. Times were hard. He couldn't help himself, the joy of the music welled up inside of him, and he joined in with the song with his deep baritone voice. While the rest of his body had aged, and was becoming quite recalcitrant in doing just about everything, his voice remained strong, velvety rich, and deep. He sang without abandon, giving full voice to the joy within him. The two voices, one elderly human, and one old wind instrument, joined together in beautiful counterpoint with one another.

OOOOOO

Franz was in another world. He was carried away with the beauty of the music, and the delight of playing such a wonderful instrument, that he had totally lost track of the hour. It had been his Christmas present to himself, and he was enjoying every moment of it.

When the priest joined in with the music, counterpointing with voice, another very beautiful layer swirled within the organ's music. At first Franz hadn't really noted the voice, so skillfully did it blend and wrap around the music of the organ. Then, when he did notice, he didn't want to stop playing, intrigued with the duet. He was a little alarmed at being discovered, but figured that since he was there, and the other had heard him, and had chosen to join the music rather than to confront him, he went with the moment.

As he ended the song, he dropped his hands to the sides. As expected, a voice called up to him.

" Please, would you play _Silent Night_?" an elderly voice called up to him, in German dialect.

Instead of replying, Franz put his hands back up to the keys, and began the simple, hauntingly beautiful song. He began it quietly, simply, letting the organ take on a plaintive, contemplative tone. The voice below began to sing the song, matching the tones, and then wrapping around the melody. Franz then took the counterpoint, allowing the voice to have the melody.

The result was beauty, wrapped in Light, welcoming the budding dawn.

OOOOOO

Kei was in the habit of rising early. She had begun to do this long before she joined the crew of the Arcadia; she was truly a morning person. She rose up out of her slumber, stretched her arms up overhead and began to get her body moving from the long sleep. She yawned. Kei swung her feet out of the bed, and into her fuzzy cat slippers that Harlock had gotten her as a joke gift last Christmas. They were warm, and this way, she had her "own two cats on her feet." He had said that - and she hadn't been entirely certain how to take his words. But the small smile that lingered at the corners of his normally serious mouth had given him away. She smiled, people didn't often realize the many layers to the Captain's psyche. He had a mischievous side to him alongside the serious warrior. She shrugged on her robe and padded softly into the bathroom for her morning ablutions.

OOOOOO

The boy began to stir from sleep in the dawn of the day. He awoke with a start, and then remembered despairingly what had happened the evening before. As he remembered, he listened with awe at the beauty from both the organ and a deep, rich voice he was hearing. He had never heard anything quite like it. The words were simple, the music was plaintive, gentle, and somehow otherworldly. He listened, safe within his box. He sat up to listen, and smiled when he realized that the vibrations in the stone floor from the organ music, was what had awakened him. He didn't know that could happen. He was a little afraid that he might be found, but for now he was safe, and enjoyed the treat that he had been given. As long as he kept quiet, no one would know that he was there.

OOOOOO

Harlock ended the piece, and felt like he'd been in a Christmas Eve Service, which he hadn't attended for lo, these many years since his banishment. It evoked a feeling of wholeness, and complete peace within him, which had also been missing from his life. He reluctantly turned the organ off, and drew the roll-top down over the banks of stops and keys. He swung his legs over the edge of the bench and put his boots back on, and then stood up, shrugging on his coat, hat and scarf. He covered his face somewhat by pulling the hat down on his head, and the scarf up as far as he could. Not much could be done with the eye patch, so he finished getting himself ready to go back down the steps from the loft.

Time to face the singer.

OOOOOO

The Priest stood, still enraptured by the moments that had been before. It had been lovely, and he hadn't had a chance to sing like that for a very long time; since before the war with the Illumidas. His original church had been leveled to the ground, leaving only the crypt below in good shape. He had had to hide for a period of time, as religion of any kind had not been permitted, but the good people of Heiligenstadt had hidden him well. It was only after the restoration of the Earth that he had been able to move about freely. This small church was his new home.

He waited at the base of the steps, smiling. He had to meet this organist! And convince them that Christmas Eve was a good time to use those talents. He held his hands somewhat anxiously at first, and then decided to grasp his wrists with the opposite hands, and hold them up in his sleeves of the clerical robe so that he looked dignified, not anxious. Besides, he was chilly.

OOOOOO

Harlock came down the stairs slowly. He was considering what to say. Perhaps he should stick with his usual silence. A stoic face might be best, and he could watch the other, the sexton perhaps?, and gauge his responses from allowing the other man to speak first. As he went around the last bend in the stairs and looked ahead at the man in front of him, he was surprised to see the priestly garb. He didn't know that any had survived! Yet, here stood an elderly Priest.

As Franz came out into the light, the Priest looked at him, took in the winter garb, and looked closer at the tall man who came to stand before him.

"Franz!" the old priest said with surprise, and held out his arms to the pirate before him.

Simultaneously, Harlock cried out, "Father Anselm!" and held out his arms to the old, white haired and thin, frail man.

They met in the middle, and embraced, each holding the other for a long time.

"I thought you had died," said Harlock, pulling back away and yet still holding onto the Priest's shoulders. He was grinning from ear to ear, and the Priest's expression matched his own, as he shook his head no.

"Oh, my son, I thought that I had, many times. But somehow the Grace of God has preserved me to see this day, the day in which you have returned to the land of your birth. Welcome home, Franz."

Harlock felt something warm and wet run down his left cheek. Probably left over melted snow off of his hat, he thought. Father Anselm, smiled gently, and raised his hand to wipe away the tear from Harlock's face. Harlock allowed the gesture and admitted to himself that it felt good to be cared about.

"We have never forgotten, not for one minute, who you really are to us, Franz. Others may have forgotten, but not Heiligenstadt. You belong to us, and we to you. There may be some who have not kept the faith with the Harlock clan, but most have not forgotten, and honor you. We are still protecting those of the clan that are left, but the numbers have been winnowed greatly. Most of the cadet lines are gone, with few remaining." Father Anselm took a breath and his white brows furrowed as he remembered the cutting down of most of the family's members. And the sad duty of burying them.

"Come, Franz," he said, "there is much to discuss." with that, he put his arm around Harlock and led him into his study.

OOOOOO

Kei was finally up on the bridge of the Arcadia, and looked over at the Captain's chair. Usually by this time in the morning, he was already ensconced in it, drinking his coffee. This morning, the chair was vacant. Odd, for you could set your timepiece by Harlock's punctuality. Kei was a little perplexed. Even more interesting was _who_ _was_ in the chair. The cat, Miuu. He was all curled up with his nose under his tail to keep it warm. The cat usually stayed in either Harlock's chambers, or in the kitchen, pestering the cook Masu, for food. Or a bottle of Saki.

She turned to the console, "Find Captain Harlock," she requested. Perhaps he had been called away.

"The Captain is not aboard the Arcadia," the ship informed her primly.

Kei digested this news. They had talked about this. He was NOT to leave without an guard escort, not even here, in Heiligenstadt. He had told her that he understood her concerns, and then turned around to do the very thing she had asked him not to do.

She sighed. "Signal Harley, and ask him to come to the bridge."

"Done," said the AI rather smugly.

The female would fix the issue of the Pattern being Outside. It had watched her actions over time and was certain she would retrieve the Captain. She had a good record of keeping him where he belonged. At least most of the time, the ship admitted to itself.

OOOOOO

The boy heard the two men go into the Priest's study and heard the door close. Good, Maybe he could quietly sneak out from behind the altar and find a bathroom. He got on his knees, and crawled to the edge of the box cavity of the altar. He reached up to push the arras out of the way, and crawled out the narrow space between the wall and the altar.

Unfortunately, he didn't notice that his very baggy coat's zipper had snagged onto the pattern of the brocade arras and pulled it behind him. As he moved away from the wall area, the zipper caught the arras tightly. The arras cloth was ancient, and rather dry-rotted. It tore from the rod above and fell down onto the altar below, crashing the candlesticks, offering plates, and communion service to the stone floor in front of the Nativity.

Crash! Clang! The offering plates rolled around in the chancel area like brass Frisbees. The brass fittings rang out loudly in the stillness of the early morning. The boy cringed and panicked. There was no way the men hadn't heard that! He started to run for the back door, dragging the heavy arras with him, attached to his coat. The solid wood Nativity pieces also tumbled over as the material dragged over them, adding to the already noisy cacophony.

The door to the study opened and banged against the stone wall. The tall man saw the fleeing child, the arras dragging behind him, and his mouth twitched in a smile. Nonetheless, he chased after the boy, if for no other reason that he was making enough noise to awaken the dead. Harlock didn't want too much attention drawn to himself, not now, and not like this. His long legs ate up the distance, and he caught up with the boy at the back of the church. The boy had his hands on the latch of the door, trying to pull it open. Harlock merely leaned on the door to keep it closed.

The boy looked up at his scarred face, eye patch, and shock of wild hair. "Harlock," he cried out. And he passed out. Between the shock of the events of the night before, and the events just now, the cold floor, and the lack of food, the child's eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped over. Harlock caught him before he could hit the stones, and eased the child to the floor, carefully straightening him out.

Father Anselm hurried as quickly as he was able to the back of the church. "Harlock," he called, "what happened?"

Harlock turned to the Priest and said, "I think that you have a small Christmas Mouse, who was hiding behind your altar. He came out when he thought we weren't around."

Harlock disentangled the ruined arras from the boy's huge coat. "And from the look of things, got tangled up. He's also out cold at the moment." Harlock studied the boy's face. "He looks like he hasn't been cared for. He's got on at least five layers of overly big clothes, this huge coat, and very worn shoes." Harlock shook his head and looked up at Father Anselm. "Do you know the boy, Father?"

Father Anselm looked at the boy's face. "No, I've not seen him before." He looked at Harlock. "How did you know he was hiding behind the altar?"

Harlock grinned at the good Priest. "Because, in his position, I'd have done the same thing."

Father Anselm shook his head and chuckled. "Personal experience, I take it?"

Harlock just smiled, he wasn't going to admit to anything. "Let's get him into your study and see what we need to do for him." Harlock said. "I feel bad about scaring him half to death." He picked up the boy and carried him back to the study, leaving Father Anselm to come behind him at his own pace.

Father Anselm gathered up the remains of the arras and sighed. He looked up at the confused mess in the chancel area. He'd have to clean that up later. Maybe he could talk Franz into helping him. After all, being the Spiritual Father of the Harlock clan had to count for something. He would have to remember that, when he would present his case for having Franz be the organist for Christmas Eve. He had quite forgotten how talented he was on the keys of either piano or organ. Father Anselm smiled. Bless Lady Harlock, and may she rest in peace, he thought sadly, as she was the one who had insisted that the young boy Harlock had been, should learn to play an instrument.

He put the ruined arras on the pew in front of the communion rail, genuflected thoughtfully to the altar and the crucifix above, then smiled. All things work together, he thought. If the Cathedral he had served the Harlock family from most of his adult life had not been leveled, Father Anselm would not have run into him this night. Nor would there have been a small, frightened child seeking shelter from the night for them to find.

He smiled and spoke to the figure on the cross. "We go nowhere by accident, do we?"

Still smiling, and very thoughtful, he trailed behind the ninety-ninth Pirate Knight of Arcadia, born and bred in the city of Heiligenstadt, exiled from his home planet, come home to the people who knew and honored him best.

OOOOOO


	3. Chapter 3

Christmas Magic - Chapter 3

_"The knowing is easy. It's the doing that gives us trouble." - Vannetta Chapman_

The child felt himself awaken, and he was toasty warm. He snuggled a bit deeper into the warmth. As he opened a slice of his eye, he saw that he was lying on a worn sofa, with several blankets laid across him; tucked in to keep in the warmth.

Across the room, he saw an old fireplace that had crackling logs in it, with a good fire going. The patterns of the flames were mesmerizing. There were bookshelves all along the sides of the room, a large wooden desk and chair, and a chess table between two deep wing chairs on either side of the fireplace. Worn carpets covered the stones in several places. There was a large shuttered window at one end of the room, with heavy, old and dusty velvet draperies hanging to either side of the window. Across from him was another sofa that matched the one he was on, a long low table between them, and a hassock.

He sighed. His sigh signaled to the two men talking quietly near the fire in the deep wing chairs that he was awakening.

The frail old Priest rose and came over to where he lay, moved the hassock closer and sat carefully on the convenient, but equally threadbare piece, and spoke to him quietly.

"Hello, son." Father Anselm said. "I am Father Anselm of this church. How are you feeling? We were concerned for you." With this, he indicated with his hand, the second, taller and younger man sitting in the other wing chair by the fire. The gesture drew the boy's eyes over to the chair, and they grew wide as he realized who was sitting in the chair.

"C-c-c-Captain Harlock..." The boy stuttered a bit, and tried to sit up.

The priest put a gentle hand to his shoulder to tell him he did not need to move. "It is well, child. Franz is an old friend, and he will not harm you, regardless of what lies you may have been told."

The child looked over at Harlock in equal parts of awe and fear, with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Harlock smiled at the child, hoping that the smile would calm him, but very much doubting that it would. His face was scarred, and obviously the child had been told some scary tales.

"Good morning," Harlock said. "What is your name?"

The child gawked at the pirate for a moment. "Axel, " he said softly.

The Priest smiled at him and asked, "Axel, who?"

The boy looked at him. "Axel Schlutenheim," he replied.

Harlock was startled at the boy's last name. Schlutenheim? That had been Maya's last name before they were married! But, she had had no relatives...

"What are your parent's names?" Harlock asked gently.

"My real mom is dead. My birth mom is Astrid. Astrid Kroeger." The boy continued. "We live..." He stopped rather painfully. "I - I lived with her and my step-father until last night." The memory of being tossed out suddenly overwhelmed the young boy. He began to cry.

The priest leaned forward and gathered the young boy into his lap and arms, and held him against his shoulder. He patted the boy's back, softly told him that he was safe here, and that he would not be harmed; that he and Harlock would keep him safe. The boy cried himself out as the good Father rocked him in his arms.

Harlock's brows furrowed on his forehead. "What happened last night, Axel? Why don't you live with your parents anymore?"

This whole thing smelled bad to him. Why would his parents allow him to have been out on such a night, and why had the boy said that he had lived with them until last night? What could have happened? The child was clearly distraught, miserable, and had not received decent care; witness the ribs, elbows and knees sticking out on him, as they had discovered while they had cleaned him up and then tucked him into the warm blankets. He was not well fed, had been very dirty, and clothed in rags. Harlock knew that many people had suffered greatly since the war, but since the restoration, he had thought that things would improve.

The boy hiccupped a bit, then turned his tear-streaked face to Harlock. "They told me to leave and not come back, that it wasn't my home anymore." His voice quavered a bit. "I didn't know where to go, and I walked a lot and wound up here. I don't know why I came here, I've never been here before."

Father Anselm held up his hand and wiped the tears from the child's face. "God brought you here, little one. To us. So that we can make it right." He smiled gently at the boy.

The boy stared at the Otherworldly Priest with wide eyes. He had been told that God didn't exist by his stepfather. He didn't remember anyone bringing him here, and thus was quite confused by what the Priest told him. "I walked here by myself." He said gravely. The Priest merely smiled his gentle smile.

Harlock got up out of the wing chair he had been sitting in by the fire, came over to the sofa, and sat on the side arm. At a look from Father Anselm, he maneuvered himself onto the sofa itself, self-consciously clasping his hands together in his lap. The child stared at him curiously. Harlock stared back. Father Anselm watched their interplay with amusement.

OOOOOOO

Harley was now officially in a bad mood. Kei had yelled at him, and then blistered his ears further while both Miuu and the AI had looked on. She had called him incompetent, lazy, and good for nothing, poking him in the chest with her pointed finger to punctuate her accusations. He had apparently been so neglectful of his duties that he had mislaid their Captain. He had argued that the Captain had a mind of his own, and frequently used it. How dare she think that he was careless? The Captain had obviously left while everyone was asleep and had wanted to be alone. His reasonable words were swept away with her anger, and a demand to find Harlock, Now!

With his ears still ringing from her words and tone, he went to the security area of the docking link to review the footage he knew would be there. Of course, he could have pulled it up on the bridge, but had fled from Kei's wrath. "Unreasonable wench." He mumbled under his breath. Harley didn't dare say it too loudly; Kei had a way of finding out things like that, and she didn't get mad, she got even. He keyed in a command to see what Harlock had been up to before he left.

As he viewed the footage, he noted that the platform flyer was what Harlock had used for transportation, so he wasn't going far and was on-world. And, curiously - he had taken a saw, and a long coiled rope and tackle block with him. Harley wondered what Harlock had wanted with that. Harlock had also been garbed in winter gear from head to foot. Interesting hat, scarf and mittens, he thought. He glanced at the chronometer. Harlock had left at 0100... It was now 1000. Nine hours. Harley's hackles rose. That was a long time ago and he hadn't left word of what he was doing with anyone, which told Harley that Harlock had intended to be back long before he was missed by anyone. Not good.

"Computer, assemble the infiltration team, here, in ten minutes." Harley commanded of the AI. "And see if you can locate the beacon on the platform."

Harley left the console, and headed in to the locker room to get geared up in special operations garb. The special operations garb was without ornamentation of the pirate sigil. On occasion, it was necessary to blend in without advertising who they were. He suspected that this would be a time where stealth was going to be needed. He hesitated, and also keyed in a speech bug with German dialect specific for this region, complete with local idioms. They didn't want to stick out too much. He placed the electrode for the bug on his throat, below the line of his collar.

OOOOOOO

The AI dutifully located the platform flyer. It placed the location within the team's wrist link computers, with a straight line route, and a more circuitous one, with a bit of similarity to what path the Pattern had taken, minus the meandering for hours within the forest. It was also intensely curious. What was the Pattern doing? It really wanted to go with the men, but there was no way for it to do that, without getting the pink clad female upset about the AI moving the ship without permission. It had tried that before, and the female had been quite vocal about that action. The AI didn't like it when she was upset. It didn't know _why_ this bothered it, but it did.

With this in mind, the AI had been considering this problem for a while. If it couldn't go with the men, perhaps it could listen in on what they were doing and seeing. It had caused a small device to be made, and had incorporated this into the shoulder gear padding the men all had. It then realized that the men would be wearing winter coats and boots. It then asked the half of the devices to move to the zipper of the coats. There. If they had the coats on, it had the same visualization of half of the men. If they took off their coats, it could see what was happening through the other half of them. Pleased with its reasoning, it rested.

OOOOOO

The woman, Astrid Kroeger, stole out of the dilapidated house she lived in with her "husband" Erich Berne. She quietly closed the door behind her and walked slowly and quietly down the street. She was quite upset, and very resigned. Last night had been the worst night, save for that night years ago, when the Illumidas had cleansed the town of all known people of the Harlock lineage. The child's Grandmother had died with them, attempting to defend them. She had also managed to hide some of the lesser known family members, many of whom had taken on new names to hide their identities.

Before the Illumidas had gotten to Heiligenstadt, the Grandmother had secretly sent word to Astrid to hide with the boy, and to give him a new name; Axel Joseph Ahren Schlutenheim. She had also sent a considerable sum of money with the message, and the messenger had been ordered to care for both of them. Raymond had done a good job of that for several years, but he was older than she by a good twenty years. The hard times, the lack of food, and poor living conditions had taken their toll on him. He had died a year ago, leaving her without protection. She had grown fond of him and had grieved his death.

Erich had weaseled his way into her life, after Raymond had died, with pretty words, large plans, and nothing to back them up. Lonely and afraid, she had fallen for him at first, not realizing who he really was until it was far too late. He learned about the boy and his secret, when she had foolishly told him of the manner of his birth, parentage, and plan. He had held it over her head since then, threatening to tell the Illumidas who Axel's family was, and then laugh when she begged him not to do so. Since the Illumidas were no more, he had been even more abusive to her and she had not had the courage to tell him to go.

She had to find Axel and tell him the truth. Before the truth was not able to be known. Erich had control of her and the money that remained. Once that was gone, she was going to not have anything at all, not even the son she had raised by proxy. She looked behind her, good, Erich hadn't even noticed that she was missing, not yet. If she hurried, she might be able to get back before he knew she was not there.

OOOOOO

Erich Berne awakened in a foul mood. He bellowed for Astrid, and then got up when she didn't respond. She had denied him last night and he was going to see to it that she never did that again. He pulled on his clothes and went looking for the insipid wench. He didn't love her, and the reason that he was there in the first place was gone. He had nothing further to gain by staying. He had spent the money that the small family had, and it had given him pleasure to watch their misery with no food and poor living over the past year. He would be moving on as he resented the entire time he had wasted here.

He went down the rickety stairs, and went into the dimly lit kitchen. No Astrid. He looked all through the tiny house, the yard and the cellar. Fine. She would come back, for after all, she had nowhere to go and no one other than himself to depend upon. He would be waiting.

OOOOOO

Harley and his ten hand-picked men, or as Harlock called them, "Harley's Angels," set out in the armored float cars to track Harlock down. The two large cars were black, unmarked, and did not appear to be anything special from the outside. Until you got inside of one, then you realized that they were very advanced tactical vehicles, loaded with weaponry and advanced computer capacity. The police and the military would have been coveting them did they know of them.

Harley was in the second vehicle back. He had told Kei of the plan, and she had been upset that she was to stay aboard the ship. He had been right and she knew it, which didn't change her irritation at being excluded. Harley knew full well that while Kei was a great fighter and well trained, she was also not subtle. Stealth was not her mode, not at all. After all, a pirate woman who went about in a hot pink uni-suit with her assets on display through the tight leathers, wasn't going to be called subtle by anyone. She was best utilized on board, taking on the command function since Yattaran was quietly visiting family in Japan. Sulkily, she had agreed.

Harley uploaded the plot of the target area into the computer aboard the car. Twenty minutes for the short route, and ninety minutes for the more stealthy route. He debated with himself. The short route took them through town to the outskirts on the other side. The other route went through the forest. Time, he thought, time. "Go through the town," he said. "We should be able to get through without much remark. We look normal, no one knows we are here, and the risk should be small enough." They set off on the chosen route, confident in their abilities to meet any issues along the way.

OOOOOO

Astrid went into the partially restored bank, and took a key from around her neck. She asked to have a box brought to her, and handed them the key. The clerk's eyebrows raised up on his forehead. The key was made of gold, and he knew what that meant. He looked up at her, startled.

She smiled a tired smile at him. "Yes. It is," she said simply.

He went down into the vault to retrieve the box she had requested. He came back with it to the small room where boxes were opened. He put in his key, she put in hers and they both turned the keys together. A beam shot up out of the lid, and Astrid put her eye in the path of the beam. The box clicked open. The clerk left the room when Astrid had raised an eyebrow at him.

She opened the box more fully once the clerk was gone. Her hand hesitated for a moment, then went into the interior of the box. She pulled out a heavy case, snapped open the lid, and pulled out a powerful weapon, a handgun called a dragoon. It still had power she saw from the indicator. Good. She was finally going to take care of her problem, find Axel, and do what she should have done a year ago after Raymond had died, but she had been too afraid for both herself and the boy. She also pocketed a small jewel-like data crystal, and some papers wrapped in archival casing. She was going to need them.

She took in a deep breath, let it out and straightened her spine. Astrid squared her jaw; she could do this. She closed the lid of the box and nodded to the clerk on her way out, large case in hand. She was done with dithering. Time to act.

The clerk noticed the difference in her demeanor from when she had entered. He wondered what she was going to do, and how she had come to have access to that particular box.

OOOOOO

The AI was bored. Nothing to do, and the men were driving in the cars and nothing was happening. It hadn't been happy about Harley getting yelled at by the pink female. That had bothered it a lot. After all, it had seen the Pattern leave, and knew the he wasn't in immediate danger. She was over emotional and unfair in her accusations against Harley.

It would play a prank on her. A Christmassy prank. It re-arranged some Dark Matter into the object. And put it where she would find it. There. That should do it. It settled back to watch her reactions.

OOOOOO

The small red and green elf was sitting in Kei's quarters, up on the top of the mirror in her bathroom. It had a cheery little face, pointed ears and shoes, and a green and red stocking hat. It was sitting there with its cloth arms clasped around its striped cloth knees.

Kei was going to learn about the game of the "Elf upon the Shelf," played by the AI. It snickered. It knew she would shoot it first and ask questions later, so it made a few more. This should drive her crazy, it thought. And be fun to watch.

OOOOOO

Kei entered her quarters to get her belt as she had forgotten it earlier. She had been rather hard on Harley, she admitted to herself. She'd apologize later.

She went into her bathroom to brush her hair again. She saw the strange thing on the top of her mirror and got angry. Someone had put that ugly thing on her mirror. She took out her gun and shot it. There, that was done. She wasn't going to have anything looking at her while she was in the bathroom.

After she was done, she picked up the battered elf to put it in the recycler. As she came out of the bathroom, she glanced over at her bed, and saw the twin to this elf on the bed. This time, it was on its side, with an arm and leg cocked to mimic a human pose. The smiling faces irritated her. She aimed at that one, too. Two of the stupid things in the trash.

She flounced out of her rooms and marched down the hallway. She entered the bridge elevator and another of the stupid things was perched on top of the signal lights, hanging down by its joined hands. How many of the stupid things were there? She thought as she yanked it down, irritated. By the time she arrived back on the bridge, she had run into 20 more of the elves in various poses, places, and had pulled them all down. She arrived on the bridge with an armful of them.

The crew manning the bridge turned and looked as she entered. They noted the small red and green elves with amusement. Kei stalked over to the Captain's chair and dumped the armload in on top of Miuu. The cat gave a sharp "Meow!" and looked at her with baleful green eyes.

"Don't look at me like that!" Kei fumed at the cat. It twitched its ears at her, then went back to the business of all cats, sleeping.

Kei turned to the team and said, "Alright, let's see if we can provide what Harley might need."

OOOOOO


	4. Chapter 4

Christmas Magic - Chapter 4

_"Treat a man as he is and he will remain as he is._

_Treat a man as he can and should be,_

_and he will become as he can and should be." - Stephen R. Covey_

Harley and his men were about half-way through the city of Heiligenstadt, and so far there had been no incident, nor any wayward look toward the two large black, unmarked cars. People were busy doing what they needed to do and did not spare a second glance at them, for which he was grateful. He did not want to get into any sort of a firefight with people the Captain might know, and be upset about their untimely demise. They obeyed all traffic patterns, signals, and gave right-away to those who had need of it. So far, so good.

OOOOOO

Astrid walked down the street with thoughtful steps. She had always felt like Axel was a burden in her life, at least after the agreed upon time. She had been asked to carry the child for another, who could not, and had agreed. The timeframe was for less than a year, she was to be cared for fully, and paid handsomely at the end of her time.

She had held up her end of the bargain, and had also agreed to go beyond to finish weaning him for the next two years, as his actual mother was still ill. Astrid was not trained to do anything else, and had not had a single plan for her future, only some vague thoughts about running a day care, or doing elder care.

Once Axel had been born, and she had fulfilled her longer nurse-maid duty, the thrice damned Illumidas had seen fit to invade Earth and start a war that decimated the Earth, winnowed its people down to less than a third, and worst of all, had taken the Lady as she attempted to save the Harlock clan.

Astrid remembered that she had been awakened in the dead of night by the Lady, and told to flee with a loyal retainer by the name of Raymond. She had been told to rename the child, and that Raymond should take the last name of Schlutenheim. They should pretend to be husband and wife until the Lady sent for them. She feared for the child's life, given his family name.

They had fled to Berlin, to hide among other people. No one would remark upon them there, as so many were trying to survive and could not spare a thought for yet one more strange couple with a small child in the city. Raymond had cared for both of them, drawing on the funds the Lady had set aside, and his own talents as a supplement. He also organized the training that Axel was to do, and spent a lot of time educating the boy in reading, math, and science. He also worked with him on rudimentary fighting skills. Odd skills those were, she thought - tumbling exercises, running, bow hunting, yoga, and some self-defense.

She had returned when the war ended, and after Raymond had died. He had told her before he had died what to do if something should happen to him, gave her the gold key, the letters, and instructions for what to do at the bank in Heiligenstadt. He had died of a heart attack a scant month following this revelation. In previous times, he could have been saved, but with the condition of the Earth, the fractured infrastructure, and medical care decimation, he did not stand a chance.

Astrid knew that she should have contacted the man listed on one of the letters she carried, but hadn't wanted to. He was a Priest, and she didn't believe in anything beyond herself. She had gone by the Castle Kirke where the Priest had lived, found it leveled, so it was likely a moot point. The priest was probably dead, but she never asked anyone about him. And so, she had tried to go it alone, with the money she had left, and had looked for work. She had found some work as a cleaning maid, which she could do while Axel was occupied with the schoolwork that Raymond had laid out for him a year before. They were now at an end of the prepared lessons. She had no idea what to do next and had sharply told Axel to leave her alone when he had asked for more to do.

She had met Erich within a week of their return, and had fallen for his good looks, smooth tongue, and grand plans. She had been naive regarding his intent, and she regretted her stupidity and lack of self-drive. She really should have done better by both herself and Axel.

When Erich had pushed the boy out into the night with nothing but the rags he allowed the child, she had added Raymond's old coat to the top of that, and had allowed him to be sent away. She was a complacent fool, she thought bitterly. She had wanted someone, anyone else to take care of her burdens, and not require much of her; she didn't like to work. Yet, Astrid had worked so hard to please Erich, and had been resentful of the time she had had to spend with Axel. He still grieved Raymond, and still thought of him as his father a year after the fact. This had also annoyed her.

She sighed. What an idiot she was. After he was gone, she realized just how much she truly did love the boy. When had that happened? She had promised herself that she would not love him, for she would have had to give him away. Yet, he had snuck into her heart.

She was crossing the street and noticed a handwritten sign on a wall. It read: "Come to Celebrate Christmas at the Christmas Eve Service at the Small Chapel, December 24 at 22:30. Father Anselm will give the homily and communion."

Wonderingly, she stared at the sign. She brought up one of the letters in her bag to look at the name. Father Anselm. Unusual name. Could it be the same one? She wondered, if so, he had to be ancient, for the one she had met all those years ago was already old. She would find out, she thought. She put the letters back into her bag and looked at her chronometer. She had time to do what she needed to do.

OOOOOO

Father Anselm had come up with some worn, but clean clothes for the boy to wear, mostly near his size, out of the meager donation bins. It used to be that there had been so much in them that he had had to send things to distant places for use. No longer. Everyone had to work hard to maintain whatever they had; things were patched, worn, handed down, and used again. Very little extra came to him any longer.

So Axel wound up being clothed in some patched, faded and worn jeans that they only had to roll up a bit, and a shirt that was short sleeved, and a bright purple. There was a worn yellow hooded sweatshirt that was stained with ink in the pocket, but was still serviceable.

They had found some socks that were meant for a man, but Harlock had cut the toes off with his boot dagger, and made new toe pockets for the shortened pair with a needle and thread. The stitches might not have been done with the same expertise of Widow Schulte, Harlock thought, but it would do. There were no new shoes available, but Harlock had cleaned the ones up that the boy had to the best of his ability.

"I'm impressed," said Father Anselm. "I didn't know that your abilities also included mending."

Harlock huffed. "It isn't always easy to find new things to wear as a pirate. It's not like I can go into any store, that might still be operating, and buy something new to wear. Besides, I'm taller and thinner than most, so it is a challenge for me in that manner, too. I get my clothes made for me now by a very nice Amish lady in North America. She has taught me to reuse what is available to me. And she makes me chocolate chip cookies when I visit her." Harlock smiled at the thought of his beloved cookies, and their maker, whom he had come to cherish.

Father Anselm was intrigued. The Amish had unusual ways; he had studied them and their beliefs before the war. "Amish lady?" He inquired. "How did that happen?"

"Long story, and I need more time to tell it than what I have now. I am sure that my crew is quite alarmed by my disappearance. I had acknowledged that it would be unwise for me to travel alone, even here." Harlock sighed.

Father Anselm chuckled, and wagged a finger at Harlock's nose. "So you promised them that you wouldn't leave the Arcadia, yet here you are..."

Harlock shot back, "No, I didn't _promise_. I just said that I understood their concerns," he said defensively. "I knew I would be fine, if I got back before full daybreak." Harlock dropped his mending into his lap and he crossed his arms over his chest. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I wanted to surprise them with a tree. They have been wanting a real tree for Christmas, and that I did promise to them." He stuck his squared off chin in the air. "I got one, too. A nice one."

Father Anselm nodded, "Ah, yes, I do remember one attached to a strange platform out the back door. It is a monster of a tree. Are you sure it will fit in the Arcadia?"

Harlock nodded. "Yes, it will. I'll have to set it up in what the crew calls the cathedral room, but it will fit." He cocked his head to one side and smiled his slightly crooked half-smile. "Chimneys we don't have, but a tree will be decorative and cheer them up. Besides, they smell wonderful." He tied a knot in the thread when he got to the end of the sock. He bit the thread off, and held out the mended socks for Axel to put on. The boy complied.

OOOOOOO

Axel listened with wonder about the Arcadia and its Captains' plans for Christmas. He would never have thought that a pirate would even care about Christmas, much less want to play an organ, nor be on friendly terms with a Priest. How strange things were! He sat quietly, wondering what else he would learn about the strange, sad, and scarred man in front of him. Even more amazing was the wisdom he could hear in the old priest's words. He had been told by his mother that all religion was for the weak-minded, but he doubted that either of these two men could be counted among those who were weak!

He was tired, somber, and afraid. What was to become of him? All had been alright as long as his father, Raymond had been living. Things had fallen apart after his death and their subsequent journey to Heiligenstadt. And then the awful step-father had moved in, and his life had taken a decided turn for the worse. His own mother had looked on him with a lack of warmth once Erich had come into their lives. Food had become scarce, and his only comfort had been reading the lessons that Raymond had prepared for him. As his food had lessened, his ability to do the tumbling and active part of his training had had to stop by necessity.

Now, his stomach was full, he was warm, and was shown true decency by two types of persons he had been taught by his mother, and then stepfather, to fear and distrust. Priests and Pirates; it was all very confusing. He wondered what would become of him. He was drawn to the two of them, their care for him, and yearned for that care to continue, but he didn't know if that was possible. His father, Raymond had told him to judge people by what they did, not by what they said. His father had been seldom wrong, he would see what these two did by watching them.

OOOOOO

Harlock turned and looked at Father Anselm disbelievingly. "Play the organ on Christmas Eve? Whatever are you _thinking,_ old man? That will endanger you, me, the townspeople, and well, everybody!" Harlock's face told of his incredulousness. His brows threatened to climb up off of his forehead, his eye(s) were wide open, and he looked shocked. His hands were to either side, palms up, as he leaned in to the Priest.

Father Anselm looked at Franz sternly. "They are _your_ people, Franz. I am their Spiritual Leader, and you are by default and succession, their Temporal Leader. If they knew you came home, and didn't speak to them, or hold some sort of abbreviated court, they will believe you have abandoned them. You _are_ the Harlock."

"Abandoned them?" Harlock shook his head. "No, I haven't abandoned anyone. I've been _expelled_ from Earth, _exiled_ to Space, and pronounced guilty of treason, not obeying given orders, and court-martialed to boot. By staying away, I keep them safer than if I came openly, stayed, and fought for what should have been mine." He sat dejectedly on the hassock. He slumped a bit, with his head bowed. "And yet, when they are in trouble, even the ones who hate me, I come to help as I can."

Father Anselm came behind him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "No, Franz, they aren't safe without you. And the truth is known of your efforts to those who actually try to hear the truth. There is much political spin and media misinformation regarding you. Yet, even those who curse your name, hope that you will come to defend them in their hour of need. The name Arcadia is painted on walls in the worst hit areas, not as a curse, but as a prayer for hope. Often, it is painted right next to your wanted posters."

Harlock snorted.

Father Anselm continued on, "All people pray for freedom, Franz. Even those caught up in their own webs and lies." He sat on the coffee table in front of Franz, and looked in his eyes. "I may help them find their Creator, and help them to ask for freedom from their sins, but you, you must remind them that Freedom during life is still possible, that you still do care for and watch over them, albeit at a distance. Tell them yourself why you feel that you can't return."

He took Harlock's right hand in his, and patted the signet ring he wore on his index finger, drawing Franz's attention to it.

Franz looked down at his hand. This ring, the ring passed from father to son for almost a hundred generations minus one, marking them as the Harlock, each in turn. His own father had given it to him before his last mission out, and Franz had known then that his father had not thought that he would be returning alive. It never left his hand, except when he washed his hands. It reminded him who he was, and why what he did was important. He did have rent to pay.

Harlock looked up at the Priest. "I'll consider the idea," he said, "But right now, I have to return to the Arcadia before they come looking for me, guns blazing."

OOOOOO

Harley was almost through the city. They had had to backtrack a couple of times; there was still debris in the streets that they had trouble passing, even in float cars. Two more streets, and then some open space to the GPS coordinates that kept calling to him. The beacon hadn't moved. That was either a really good sign, or a really bad one. He couldn't decide.

As he rounded a sharp corner, He reacted late to the sight of a pedestrian in the road in front of him. He stomped on the brakes, but he did not have quite enough time to stop before hitting her. She held several bags in her hands, and put up her hands as if to ward him off. As he hit her, the bags flew, and several papers and letters scattered out of the bags across the snow strewn street.

His speed was low enough to not cause her death, but she was injured by the car; she was unconscious. He came to a stop, got out of the car along with the other four men. Harley ran to the woman and knelt beside her. Her eyes were closed, and she was limp, like a discarded rag doll in the street. Some of the other men went to retrieve her belongings. One had gotten the medic kit from the car.

"Is there a hospital here?" One of the pirates asked in a low voice.

"No," said Harley. "It got bombed out." He opened the kit and took out the medical scanner, scanning her body from head to foot as Dr Zero had trained him to do. She had a broken pelvis, which would heal with care, but no great internal injuries. Contusions of spleen, liver and lungs; also a concussion he noted, she had a leaking vessel in the brain; that needed immediate attention. He raised up the scanner and pulsed in a code for stasis of the injured areas and placed the scanner on her. It would keep her stable until they got her to better care.

"Let's move her into the back seat of the car, and we'll have to take her back to the Arcadia. Doc Zero can treat her there. We can't do anything for her here." Harley signaled to the men to assist him, and they rolled her onto a carry sheet, and carried her carefully to the car and loaded her in.

The second car caught up with their position, and Harley signaled them over, he felt terrible about this, but now he would have to split the team, so that he could take care of his new responsibility.

"I'll need you to squeeze two more in your car; we are taking an injured woman back to the Arcadia. It was my fault, I didn't see her; the corner didn't allow either one of us to see the other." He sighed and handed them her bags. "See if you can figure out who she is, and who we should try to contact about her."

Harley instructed them to continue on to the beacon recon, and he would take the woman back to the Arcadia. He'd have to go faster than he wanted and might attract attention, but her condition warranted the risk.

OOOOOO

"Astrid Kroeger Schlutenheim," one of the men mused. "That's what her papers say. Why is that name familiar?"

"Probably one of Harlock's distant relatives. He's probably related to at least half of the town." Another one stated.

"Great. We just ran her over. I'm sure he'll be pleased with us." A third man stated glumly, as he opened a locked case, and discovered to his surprise, a dragoon. "What was she doing with this?" He wondered. He turned the weapon over in his hand. It was a very old gun, but looked to still be functioning. He glanced at the battery. It still held a charge. He looked at the other men. They all looked at the elegant but deadly weapon. It looked like an ancestor to Harlock's own Dragoon. The prickles on their necks increased.

There were also letters, one addressed to a Priest by the name of "Father Anselm." Another letter held an older style of data crystal, and a note from a geneticist by the name of Dame Allison Elberton, MD to one Lady Harlock, MD. There were all sorts of symbols on that page, and they made no sense whatsoever to the men.

There was also a document that was in German, and the name of "Franz Ahren Axel Harlock, C. was prominently in the center of the page. The men looked at each other in puzzlement. Wasn't that the Boss's full, real name? Why would this woman have something of Harlock's? Not having any answers, they decided that they would take it on to Harlock, and then get him back to the ship and let him sort it all out.

OOOOOOO

Harley took his float car, and activated a hidden control, which then turned the vehicle into a snub nosed in-atmosphere flyer. Fins came out on the sides, and directional thrusters were exposed on the back of the vehicle. He arched the flight out over the forest, and then came in low to get the small ship back to the Arcadia. He held radio silence, knowing that Kei would be tracking him.

He did some evasive maneuvers when he got closer to the Arcadia, but it probably wouldn't help very much. He was probably being tracked as a result of lighting up his flyer. They would just have to be faster and more stealthy than what would be coming after him. They were obviously going to have to move the Arcadia.

He hoped that they could extract the Captain in time. This could get ugly, very quickly.

OOOOOO

Sergeant Douro was relaxing at his desk with a donut. He stared at it dourly. It was a donut in name only, he thought. Real donuts were soft, delicious, and full of sweet, yummy jelly. This was a poor donut, but the best that could be done without wheat flour. He poked it experimentally. It didn't give. He sighed; he could probably throw it against the wall and cause a dent.

He held it up to bite into it and found it to be dense, chewy, and not at all what he had expected. He dutifully chewed and leaned back in his desk chair and put his feet up on the desk. He raised his coffee cup, that held watered down coffee. The coffee supply was weak, and uncertain, but at least this smelled like coffee.

All of the sudden, his computer went crazy. It blinked rapidly, and spoke to him, "In-Atmosphere flight, no recorded flight data. Flight unauthorized. Interrogating. No call sign listed. It doesn't respond. Instruction, please."

He hurriedly put his feet back on the ground, slammed the donut and the coffee mug onto his desk. He stared at the screen, unbelievingly. No one had a flyer. No one other than the military. Who could it be? His brain was beginning to awaken.

Douro smiled. The only other people who had flyers other than the military were the pirates, now that the Illumidas were dead. And the only pirate likely to visit this section of old Germany, was the prize of all prizes, Harlock. He eagerly tracked the signal, and entered in orders on his screen.

The video phone came to life. He looked at the screen and smiled at the General on the other end.

"He's back."

The General smiled grimly. "You know what to do."

OOOOOOO


	5. Chapter 5

Christmas Magic - Chapter 5

_"In preparing for battle I have always found that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable." - Dwight D. Eisenhower_

Harley flew skillfully and evasively along the river bed and right at the tree line. Flying the "nape of the Earth," was sometimes helpful in eluding pursuit however, he suspected that this was not going to be at all helpful this time. He was wondering why there had been no pursuit as of yet. He had been in the air for a full five minutes and an investigative flight, or radioed question as to his identification and purpose, had yet to be issued. That was a real concern, for if they hadn't done that, then they either knew who he was and where he was going, or they had a surprise in mind for him. The second option wasn't particularly palatable.

While the transformed float car was now an in-atmosphere flyer and was doing a good job of eating up the miles, it was not heavily armed as much as a Space Wolf would be. It had some armament, but it was difficult to conceal the really heavy artillery in that size vehicle. Meeting determined resistance and an outright battle would not bode well for the little flyer or its occupants.

He squirted a message to Kei on a tight directional radio band. In it was the compressed data from the mission to date, the story of the injured passenger, and her needs. He knew that when they got back to the ship that Doc Zero and Thea would be waiting for him with medics and a float stretcher. He also knew that Kei would raise anchor immediately and move the Arcadia under stealth mode to a new location and lie "doggo" until Harlock could return.

OOOOOO

Sergeant Douro pounded on the hood of the troop transport in frustration. The men inside watched his tantrum with sour amusement. Obviously, they weren't going anywhere, anytime soon in this vehicle.

"Alright, you lot," he said sternly, "Get out of there, and let's find some useful transportation. There is no fuel. Apparently, we used the last of it in Tuesday's parade of strength through this dumb city. Our monthly allotment of fuel isn't coming until next week, after the Christmas holiday, so we need to find something else with fuel in it." He knew that the town had no fuel either, as he had commandeered that for use in the previous week in the parade that he was required to do monthly.

The men debarked the transport. Secretly, they were glad the transport hadn't worked, they didn't relish the job of going up against Harlock in his own city. They had been stationed there long enough to realize that the town suffered them, but not gladly. There were some government sympathizers, but not as many as the sergeant thought that there were. They knew the truth, as they had gone into the bars and restaurants of the city, and had heard firsthand what the people really thought. And that opinion was not in favor of Earth Central. Given the city's loyalty to the Harlock clan, this was not going to be easy.

"Go and find vehicles that we can use to take the fight to that miserable pirate. Meet back here in 20 minutes," the sergeant ordered them.

The men fanned out wondering what they could find. They dutifully went, but realized that finding anything with fuel in it that they could commandeer was unlikely, as the townspeople had a way of thwarting even the most basic of desires, much less more complicated, and expensive ones like this. But orders were orders, so off they went.

OOOOOO

Kei was studying the console in front of her, looking for a new place to hide the Arcadia. They needed to move as soon as Harley returned with the wounded woman. It needed to be far enough as to be out of danger, yet close enough that Harlock would be able to be in range with the platform flyer. She was annoyed, because they still didn't have Harlock back. And as much as she would admit to herself, a wounded woman in exchange for their Master and Commander was a poor trade. She didn't particularly wish the woman ill, much less being injured, but this was a complication that they could have done without.

She tossed yet one more of the colorful elves onto Harlock's throne that had appeared when she had taken her eyes off of the console top. She had lost count of them by now. Whoever was doing this elf thing to her was going to be cleaning the Arcadia's bathrooms for a good month. With a toothbrush.

Ah, there, she thought to herself. That would work well. It was dense enough in forested hills to hide the Arcadia from chance viewing, and yet close enough to Harlock's current position to grant him ready access to the ship. She began inputting coordinates rapidly with long, steady fingers on her elegantly formed hands. Nodding to the Assistant Navigator, who then checked her math and nodded back, she then went to sit in an auxiliary seat, which of course, held another elf. She picked it up and looked at it in the face.

The Bridge crew snickered. She glared at them while she threw the elf on top of the ever expanding pile on Harlock's chair. Eventually, they would run out of these stupid dolls and the joke would be over, she hoped. She looked at each crew member in the face. No one looked guilty, but they all looked amused.

OOOOOO

Sergeant Douro looked at his platoon. He couldn't believe what they had come up with, but they had followed orders, he had to give them that; creatively followed orders, he amended.

"Move out", he called to them, seating himself with what dignity he had left.

He had made Rommel's logistical mistake and let his supplies run out without securing his supply line. He was never going to hear the end of this from either the General, or his men, regardless of whether they failed, or succeeded. And so, here he was, riding to battle the universe's best pirate, who also happened to be a tactical genius, on a farm tractor. The indignity and the humor of the situation occurred to him at the same time. He sighed and looked around him.

Each of his soldiers was seated on a tractor. Lawn and farm tractors of various shapes, sizes and manufacture. Most were from before the war, and had been maintained by their owners. Some had wagons on their hitches, and others had other farming implements attached to them. Sergeant Douro was seated grimly in the wagon of the largest of the green tractors, on a hay bale. Others rode red tractors, and others blue ones. He had divided them up into their color groups, so that command might be somewhat easier.

They wheeled in through town to take the shortest route to where the FFI had noted the Arcadia to be located, on trajectory with the flyer speeding towards it. Their top speed was 30 mph on their tractors, and were met with incredulous stares as they travelled through Heiligenstadt.

It was a sight that the town's people had never seen before, nor were like to see again. Riding through their midst on equipment that they the people, needed in order to farm and survive, were the soldiers who laid in wait for the return of Harlock, the city's beloved Pirate Knight. Word spread quickly, as they realized that the only reason that the soldiers would have done this desperate measure was if Harlock was back, and in a vulnerable position. They needed to act.

OOOOOO

Harley made it back to the Arcadia without incident. He found that to be a miracle, but wasn't questioning his luck. He helped Thea and Doc Zero to load the woman onto a float stretcher and quickly transport her to sickbay for care. He punched into a communication console. "Kei, we need to move the Arcadia." Harley said.

"I'm on it, Harley." She replied a little testily. "I have a new place all picked out, near to where the Captain's transponder is located, deep in the forest. I've already put the location into the platform's memory, so he'll see it as soon as he starts it up."

Harley looked at the plot map and nodded. "Looks good to me," he said. "Did you squirt the coordinates to the other team?"

"Of course I did. Why would you even question that?" Kei was getting rather short tempered with the entire chain of events. First Harlock disappeared without so much as a note on where he was going, or why, small plastic elves appearing out of thin air all over the place, seemingly just to annoy her as no one else was plagued with them, and now Harley was questioning her competence. She felt a tirade coming on.

Harley stared at the screen. If he didn't know better, he would believe that Kei was suffering from some PMS. But only a very unwise pirate would ask if that was her problem. He was smarter than that; he wasn't going there. He signed off and headed out to sickbay.

OOOOOO

Doc Zero and Thea were busily engaged in surgery on their new patient. They fixed the worst problem first, the hemorrhage in her brain. The contusions and battering of the organs were stable at the moment; they needed time and some small repair and gluing assistance. They released nanobots to do that task. The fractured pelvis required manipulation and fixating in place, which was their next task. Then, they needed to repair the damage to the bladder and uterus. Once completed, they put her onto what support she needed, and waited for her body to heal. She remained unconscious, but it did look like she would survive the accident.

Interestingly enough, the uterus registered as having been occupied at one point, with different, unrelated female DNA. They were too busy to sort that out, or care about that fact, but the information about the genetics were stored in the mainframe of the AI, who puzzled over the assessment. It stopped pestering Kei with elves in order to study the problem seen in the anomalous results.

OOOOOO

Harlock was saying his goodbyes to the good Father, and promising him that he would consider the Christmas Eve request. He wasn't saying yes, but he wasn't saying no, either. He turned to Axel, and gave the boy a smile.

The boy smiled back, knowing he had nothing to fear from this man, and wishing that he could go with him to see the Arcadia. He had heard adults speaking of the great ship, its legendary exploits, and had been curious about it then, and even more so now, since he had met its Master and Commander. He hadn't found Harlock to be all that forbidding or scary, and was beginning to like him. He was still very much in awe of the tall, thin, and scarred man. He watched Harlock and the Priest say their farewells.

Franz knelt on one knee in the snow, and clasped his hands upon his knee. Father Anselm performed the Sign of the Cross above his bowed head in Blessing. It was quite a hat the Captain was wearing, Father Anselm thought idly.

"Peace be with you, my son." Anselm softly intoned, "Until we meet again."

"And also with you, Father 'Selm." Harlock raised his eye(s) up to the startled Father's face and grinned at him. He had called the good Father that years before, when pronouncing the entire name of the priest had been beyond him. He had been corrected by both the Father, and his own Mother, multiple times for the familiarity. Not that it had changed his ways.

"Cheeky pirate." Father Anselm scolded him. "Go put that tree up; I want to see it when you get it done. It ought to really be something. Just promise me that there will be something other than skulls and crossbones decorating the entire tree. A star or angel on top might be nice, too."

Harlock stood up. He smiled at the two who would be left behind. They returned his smile with smiles of their own. An odd thought went through Harlock's mind, that the boy's smile and eyes were somehow familiar, but he couldn't say why that thought had suddenly occurred to him. Mulling this over in his mind, he turned and went out to the platform flyer and hopped up upon it. As he engaged the drive, he frowned as he looked at the home base indicator; the Arcadia had moved. There were only a few conditions that would have necessitated that, and they all meant that they had been discovered. He moved the platform out, and headed in the new direction, back towards the deep forest with some urgency.

OOOOOO

In Heiligenstadt, several men converged on the office of the local constabulary. The entered the building, carrying hunting rifles and other late model firearms. All were dressed for outdoor excursions, warm coats, hats, and boots for the snowy conditions.

Moments later, the bell in the town square tower was ringing, one of the men tugging on its rope and swinging up in the air to swing the bell from side to side. A claxon rang from the Firehouse. It was not noontime, not yet, so the adult population of Heiligenstadt took notice, and tuned to the bands on their portable radios to listen in on a specific prearranged band. The band of Maya's broadcasts - Radio Free Arcadia - from years before.

The Chief of Police, Hans Kroeber, announced over the pirate band his instructions to the townsfolk. They listened intently, and those who were able to respond, did so with alacrity. The Pirate Knight was in jeopardy, and they must respond. They had all known that this day would come, and so had prepared for it. Each one capable of the coming fight opened a secret compartment hidden within their homes, and took out a weapon. Most were older in style, dating from the early days of the resistance, but still serviceable. They dressed for the weather outside as they checked their weapons over, ensuring that they were serviceable and loaded.

Anxious eyes looked on the preparation from the other family members, but they knew what must be done. With final nods and grim smiles, the fifth column warriors met the Chief in the town square for their orders. Several more men brought forth snow mobiles and ATV types of vehicles that could deal with the snowy conditions, the vehicles had been well hidden from the soldiers. They all loaded up, able to track the army who were lesser mounted on the slower farm tractors, moving through snow. They would harass the army from the rear and best the men on their tractors. Harlock would well handle the front, they were fully confident of that.

OOOOOO

Team two was still going through Heiligenstadt in their black float car when they heard all of the commotion. They wondered at the bells, claxons and people coming out of their homes loaded down with weapons and heading to the town square. They also noted that the beacon for Harlock's platform flyer was finally moving towards the Arcadia. They breathed a sigh of relief. If the Captain was moving, then he was unharmed and didn't need their intervention.

They kept on going until one of them said, "Hey, this is the street that the lady lives on, according to her papers. We should divert there, now that the Captain is moving back to the Arcadia, and see if anyone else is home. We can tell them what happened and not to worry, she's being cared for."

They all nodded. The Captain was in play, and they could relax a bit, knowing he was headed for safety. They turned the car down the street towards the address listed in her papers.

OOOOOO

Harlock sped along the banks of snow, dragging the tree behind him. He hoped that they tree would do okay with the rush along the countryside. He didn't want it to become too battered and broken, but knew that he needed to return to the Arcadia quickly. Something was afoot. He looked down at the indicators, and did not see sign of a pitched battle, so maybe there was still time.

He glanced back at the tree. It looked okay, and he didn't see any tree debris behind him, he hoped for the best. The softly laid snow cushioned it somewhat, so he thought that it might just work. He turned his attention to the front, as he was entering the denser part of the forest and needed to watch where he was headed. A collision with a standing tree or more would not do anything good to him, the platform, or the Arcadia.

OOOOOO

Aboard the Arcadia, several things were happening at the same time. The nanobots completed their work of correcting the damage within Astrid's body. Her wounds were cared for, the bones re-aligned and bone glue was set as the surgical robot completed the work set out for it by Doc Zero and Thea. The brain waves were solid, and she should awaken soon, they thought. The organs would be sore, but would do well with rest.

On the bridge, Kei Yuki stared at the plot of the float platform as it dotted its way through the forest back to the Arcadia. She also looked at a strange plot about five miles away. Moving at a slow speed of perhaps twenty mph, was a small concentrated group of people. Their trajectory was toward the Arcadia and the Captain. Behind them, and moving faster at about thirty to forty mph, and catching up quickly, was a larger group of people. Their numbers were triple those of the group ahead of them. They would all converge on Harlock's trajectory within five minutes.

"Computer, give a visual of the targets A and B." Kei said. She wanted a closer look at them both. If they were a threat to Harlock, she wanted to neutralize them. She didn't like that they looked as if they knew right where he was located.

"Drone Launched." The AI told her. "ETA two minutes."

Kei tapped her fingers on the console. Two minutes was both a short time to wait, and an eternity, when one wanted answers sooner than that.

OOOOOO

Father Anselm had tuned into his radio when he had heard the claxon calls. His response to the message had been entirely different from that of the men and women of Heiligenstadt. He immediately went to the chapel, genuflected before the altar, and knelt before it on a cushion to begin to pray. He prayed for the safety of the townsfolk, Harlock, and yes, even the enemy soldiers who would be caught in the coming battle.

Little Axel sat in one of the pews and listened in to the Priest's words, wonderingly. Why did the Father also pray for the soldiers, when they were obviously the ones causing the problem? He didn't understand, and so he listened more intently. Astrid, and lately his stepfather, hadn't looked after anyone other than themselves. Yet, here, the much maligned Priest was praying for people when he didn't particularly like their actions. Axel was having trouble understanding this concept, for it was very new to him. Even his father had been more stridently opposed to the government than was this man. His neck prickled. Something was going to happen.

OOOOOO

Harlock could tell by the plots before him on the console that he would not be able to make it back to the Arcadia before his pursuers caught up with him. Franz had noticed them coming into range several minutes out from his leaving of the little church on his way back to the Arcadia. He studied the land before him to find a defensible position. He saw a ridge, with a boulder crust and a scooped out area behind it. It was guarded by dense forest, and was ringed in open ground and many tumbled boulders. No one could sneak up on him in there. He headed in.

He positioned the tree on the hill's crest, coming down between the boulders as if it had fallen forward, and hid the platform on the scooped area behind it. He positioned himself and his weapons behind the boulders to the side. Then he detached the portable cannon from the platform and carefully positioned it with its nose facing outwards from the boulders, covered by tree branches. He and it were well hidden. He crouched down to wait.

OOOOOO

Kei saw the platform stop on her plot. The other dots were converging on him. She was very anxious now. She knew that Harlock would have found a place that he felt was defensible, so she was confident he had chosen well. But she was not at all happy about him being alone. She gave orders quickly.

"Red Signals to all hands, Red Signals to all hands." She firmly stated over the ships' comm. "The Captain will be under attack in three minutes. Captain's Guard to the armor and staging area. I will be commanding the team."

She turned and fled down the hallway to the sliding board shute for the armory. She hopped in the tube towards her own armor, slid down and suited up. She powered up the distance mode in her armor, nodded to the rest of her team, and they all bounded out of the Arcadia, leaping in powered mode. One member was piggybacked with Harlock's own armor, as they followed her out of the hatch. Their gleaming powered armor glinted in the early morning sunlight as they leapt along the snowy trail towards their Commander, the power mode eating up the miles.

They would get there just in time.

OOOOOO

_Author's note__: And so begins the Battle of Heiligenstadt, for the Arcadia, Harlock, and the people to whom he owes "rent." The idea of soldiers on tractors occurred to me before Christmas, as I passed a Mennonite farmer heading out to one of his fields, while riding in my car to work one day. _

_Those tractors are huge, with large rear wheels, and they cut well through the snow and deep mud on the wintry ground. They also sit high up, giving the farmer a great view of the field in front of him, and are very stable by their posture. They also move at a fairly good clip - for a tractor. _

_The imp of the perverse entered me and I could not help myself. My apologies to soldiers who fight for truth and freedom, these soldiers are not like you. They are government hacks who deserve this comeuppance. _

_Besides that, it is a metaphor. All honorable soldiers fight for what they love, which is always what/who is left behind them. Soldiers on tractors in a way, serve as an emblem of that concept. They (hopefully do) fight for those they protect, behind them, who need the peace that the soldier's sacrifice demands. Peace and freedom are always bought with the blood of heroes, and we who are behind them and served by them, must remember that, honor them, and that sacrifice of self. Their path is not easy._

_On a personal note, I had hoped to be able to do more writing before Christmas, but my mother became ill, so I had to care for her and my father. I wound up needing to do my sister's birthday on January 1, since my mother was planning to do that, and no longer could. That meant some of my days off wound up being "bury the bodies" days instead of "play days," so that I could play hostess. So, I am behind. LOL. Maybe by Easter? May each of you have a blessed New Year, with all the promise that it holds._

_I am not yet done with the other end of "The Bauble", and will continue that as soon as this story arc is completed, although there are parts within that earlier piece that have great bearing upon this one. _

_We shall see. _


End file.
